


You Smell Like a Wet Dog

by Moit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moit/pseuds/Moit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles insists that Derek shouldn't eat pizza, so Derek shows him who's boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Smell Like a Wet Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles is at least 18 in this fic. 
> 
> This happened on my way home from CrossFit the other night. Because of it, I also demolished the most amazing stromboli. 
> 
> The rating is for Derek's mouth.

“What is that?” Stiles demanded. 

Confused, Derek paused with a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. He glanced over his shoulder, but saw nothing other than the calendar that hung on the wall behind the kitchen table. “What?” 

“You can’t eat that.” Stiles snatched the pizza out of Derek’s hand with a frown. 

“Why not?” Despite his confusion, Derek was more annoyed than anything. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, you have the body of a god. You can’t just go around eating pizza, especially not after you’ve just spent nearly an hour running around in the woods burning off those calories. You may have freaky-fast metabolism, but this will go directly to your hips. You’re practically middle aged.” Stiles took a bite. “Me on the other hand,” he said around a mouthful of cheese and mushrooms and pepperoni, “I’m a growing teenage boy. I can eat all the pizza I want without gaining a pound.” 

Derek growled. “Stiles, I’m 24.” 

“Exactly!” Stiles took another bite, and paused to chew this time. “You’re almost 30, and since that’s practically ancient history in dog years—”

Stiles let out an undignified yelp as Derek tackled him to the floor and sat on his chest. He snatched the pizza box off the table and picked up another piece. 

“Still think I have trouble metabolizing all that dough?” he asked as Stiles pushed ineffectually in an attempt to get the werewolf off him. 

“If I say yes, will you sit on me all night?” Stiles grunted. 

“I thought you liked it when I sat on your face,” Derek said, patting him on the cheek. 

“Not when you’re sweaty and your breath smells like onions.” 

“Do you like it better when it smells like your ass?” 

To that, Stiles had absolutely no reply, and Derek was able to eat his pizza in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm much closer to 30 than I'll ever be to 18 again, so no offense meant to anyone. This is Stiles talking, not me. 
> 
> I'm @moitmiller on Tumblr, if you want to come play on my off days!


End file.
